The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 38

Now here Jocelyn sighed amain and, sitting beneath a tree, fell to sad and wistful thinking.

"Aye, verily," he repeated, "I am 'unlovely of my look.'"

Quoth Lobkyn heartily:

"In very sooth, Fool, that's the truth!"

"Alas!" sighed Jocelyn, "'And this no maid will ever brook!'"

Answered Lobkyn:

"And there dost speak, wise Fool, again, A truth right manifest and plain, Since fairest maids have bat-like eyes, And see no more than outward lies.

And seeing thus, they nothing see Of worthiness in you or me.

And so, since love doth pa.s.s us by, The plague o' plagues on love, say I!"

"Nath'less," cried the Duke, leaping to his feet. "I will put Love to the test--aye, this very hour!"

Lobkyn: Wilt go, good Motley? Pray thee where?

Jocelyn: To one beyond all ladies fair.

Lobkyn: Then dost thou need a friend about thee To cheer and comfort when she flout thee.

So, an thou wilt a-wooing wend, I'll follow thee like trusty friend.

In love or fight thou shalt not lack A st.u.r.dy arm to 'fend thy back.

I'll follow thee in light or dark, Through good or ill--Saints shield us!

Hark!

And Lobkyn started about, club poised for swift action, for, out-stealing from the shadows crept strange and dismal sound, a thin wail that sank to awful groaning rumble, and so died away.

"O!" whispered Lobkyn:

"Pray, Fool, pray with all thy might, Here's goblin foul or woodland sprite Come for to steal our souls away, So on thy knees quick, Fool, and pray!"

But, as these dismal sounds brake forth again, Jocelyn stole forward, quarter-staff gripped in ready hand; thus, coming nigh the great oak, he espied a dim, huddled form thereby and, creeping nearer, stared in wonder to behold Mopsa, the old witch, striving might and main to wind the great hunting-horn.

"What, good Witch!" quoth he, "here methinks is that beyond all thy spells to achieve."

"O Fool," she panted, "kind Fool, sound me this horn, for I'm old and scant o' breath. Wind it shrill and loud, good Motley, the rallying-note, for there is ill work afoot this night. Sound me shrewd blast, therefore."

"Nay, 't were labour in vain, Witch; there be no outlaws hereabout, free men are they henceforth and gone, each and every."

"Out alas--alas!" cried the old woman, wringing her hands. "Then woe is me for the fair lady Yolande."

"Ha! What of her, good Witch? Threateneth danger? Speak!"

"Aye, Fool, danger most dire! My Lord Gui yet liveth, and this night divers of his men shall bear her away where he lieth raging for her in his black castle of Ells--"

"Now by heaven's light!" swore Jocelyn, his eyes fierce and keen, "this night shall Fool be crowned of Love or sleep with kindly Death."

"Stay, Fool, thy foes be a many! Wilt cope with them alone?"

"Nay!" cried a voice:

"Not so, grandam For here I am!"

and Lobkyn stepped forward.

"Aha, my pretty poppet! Loved duck, my downy chick--what wouldst?"

"Fight, grandam, Smite, grandam, Sweet, blood-begetting blows.

Where Fool goeth Well Fool knoweth Lobkyn likewise goes."

"Why, then, my bantling--loved babe, fight thy fiercest, for these be wicked men and 't will be an evil fray. And she is sweet and good, so, Lobkyn, be thy strongest--"

Saith Lobkyn:

"Aye that will I, Or may I die.

By this good kiss I vow thee this.

"And here is signal, Fool, shall shew Each where the other chance to go.

"Croak like a frog, Bark like a dog, Grunt like a hog, I'll know thee.

"Hoot like an owl, Like grey wolf howl, Or like bear growl, 'T will shew thee--"

"Then come, trusty Lob, and my thanks to thee!" cried Jocelyn, catching up his quarter-staff. "But haste ye, for I would be hence ere the moon get high. Come!"

So Duke Jocelyn strode away with Lobkyn Lollo at his heels; now as they went, the moon began to rise.

FYTTE 12

Which being the last Fytte of our Geste I hope may please my daughter best.

"O, Wind of Night, soft-creeping, Sweet charge I give to thee, Steal where my love lies sleeping And bear her dreams of me; And in her dream, Love, let me seem All she would have me be.

"Kind sleep! By thee we may attain To joys long hoped and sought in vain, By thee we all may find again Our lost divinity.

"So, Night-wind, softly creeping, This charge I give to thee, Go where my love lies sleeping And bear her dreams of me."

Hearkening to this singing Yolande shivered, yet not with cold, and casting a cloak about her loveliness came and leaned forth into the warm, still glamour of the night, and saw where stood Jocelyn tall and shapely in the moonlight, but with hateful c.o.c.k's-comb a-flaunt and a.s.s's ears grotesquely a-dangle; wherefore she sighed and frowned upon him, saying nothing.

"Yolande?" he questioned. "O my lady, and wilt frown upon my singing?"

Answered she, leaning dimpled chin upon white fist and frowning yet: